


King [An Original Royal Fiction]

by piegon_knuckles



Category: Original Work
Genre: Bisexual Male Character, Blackmail, Confirmed Lovers, Cute, Eventual Smut, F/M, Father Figures, Fluff and Angst, Gay, Long Shot, M/M, Modern Royalty, Multi, Original Character(s), Original Fiction, Original Universe, POV Original Character, Royalty, Unhealthy Relationships, Young Love, new writing, underlying story
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-04-21
Updated: 2020-04-21
Packaged: 2021-03-02 02:40:48
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 5,584
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23767855
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/piegon_knuckles/pseuds/piegon_knuckles
Summary: I looked over at Wes who laid unphased by my phone. I pushed myself up to a seated position. I knew who the message was from. For god sakes, I was in the same house as him.*           *           *Andrew Westbrook’s best friend, Wes, is his everything. Years ago, the Royal Family enrolled their only child at a public kindergarten school where Wesley Huntington met Andrew. Since then, it’s been a rollercoaster of growing up, family dinners, pent up emotions, and unspoken secrets. Now, they’re young adults and their careers are graciously being laid out for them by the King himself.





	1. Family Dinner

**Author's Note:**

> Hello all who end up reading this ~
> 
> Thank you for taking the time. This is my first time uploading anything but I always am writing so I thought meh let’s give it a go. This is an original story I’m working so I hope you enjoy these fresh characters!
> 
> If you have any edits, critiques, theories, or frustrations, I’d love to hear em’
> 
> Enjoy ~

I watched my glass of wine sway back and forth at the force of my knee connecting with the bottom of the dining room table.

Why am I so awkward?

I clutched my bouncing knee, and stared at the food on the end of my salad fork. The King’s questioning gaze reached me from across the table.

I tried to ignore the heated blush growing on my face from embarrassment. Wes laughed into his wine causing the Queen to clear her throat aggressively at her son. 

“As we were saying, Andrew,” she continued speaking and I gave her my attention. “Have your mother and father decided if you’re moving away next year for college?”

Wes’s eyes caught mine. His expression showed he was interested in my response. We’ve been avoiding the subject.

“Uh-h, no.” I ran my hand across my cheek and through my curly brown hair. I wrapped my finger around a piece and pulled. Nervous tick. “I’m looking at a few Ivy’s in the states and a few universities here, but I haven’t given much thought yet. That internship you helped me acquire has been greatly beneficial however, so thank you King.”

The King tilted his glass my way with a wink before taking a long sip of the 1954 wine. My stomach dropped at the gesture. His eyes narrowed as he gave me a curt nod.

I returned the gesture and continued my meal. I stumbled through the rest of the familiar family conversations. It’s not like this was new territory. 

Every time we have dinner we talk about our relationships, my graduate studies, and how Wes and I are doing with media pressures. The King and Queen want to make sure everyone is in perfect condition at all times.

Wes and I became best friends in grade school when we were six. We’ve been inseparable ever since. I remember the first Sunday night family dinner I attended. It was the same week we met. There’s only been a handful of times I’ve ever missed it. 

I missed one dinner when I was fifteen. Wes and I had gotten in a fight. He asked for some distance for the next day to process everything we had discussed so I called and relayed I would not be in attendance for family dinner. 

I felt a hand close against my shoulder. I twitched and looked up to Wes. His parents were also standing and leaving the table. 

“You okay?” His eyes wore an expression of concern. His hand lingered on my shoulder. I could see the tips of his fingers in my peripheral vision. 

His grip softened, his palm stroking past my shoulder blade and dipping down to my middle back before he removed his hand. It was abrupt and I felt my stomach tighten at the sudden feeling of loneliness.

I pushed myself back in my chair, rubbing my face with my napkin before throwing it on my plate and standing up. 

I studied Wes as he motioned for us to go up to his room. His hair was longer this summer than it had been in previous years. It came down to his shoulders. 

His hair didn’t curl like mine. It was wavy and tinted with bright blonde highlights amidst a dusty blonde backdrop. 

“Sorry for mom pestering you about girlfriends and shit again,” he groaned as we walked up the stairwell to the second floor. He turned around and I stepped back, almost losing my footing on the step below me. My heart thumped in my chest. 

“I think she’s just not entirely ready to see me looking for princesses…” 

I huffed, and jolted at the pain in my chest. 

I panicked, worried that he could hear it but he just leaned against the railing and pulled out his phone. He scrolled until he found an online poster for an all-night horror movie marathon airing on SCI-FI TV tonight. 

“Theater?” He smiled.

I nodded. “Yeah let’s do it.”

We walked side by side down the hall toward the theater. I stumbled over my feet and my hand brushed over Wes’s. My cheeks flushed. I twitched and moved my hand so it was flush at my side again.

I coughed as Wes’s fingers traced mine before interlocking with mine, closing our palms together. He squeezed my hand painfully tight before releasing at the sight of one of the staff members walking out of the theater. 

“Hey Joan,” Wes greeted. He waved and his plum colored v-neck brushed against his collar bones. His arms were covered in goosebumps. 

“Prince Wesley…” She gave us a warning glare. “Behave yourselves.”

Wes skipped to grab the TV remotes from the box next to the theater screen. I moved to go grab pillows and blankets from the baskets in the corner next to the middle row of seats. 

I grabbed a comforter and two pillows and tossed them onto the loveseat sofa elevated above the middle row of seats. I collapsed onto the cushy surface and ran my hands through my hair. 

“Don’t do that,” Wes chided as he pushed me onto the other side of the sofa. He pulled a pen from his pocket and pressed the small button on the side a couple times so that a green light began flashing.

“Trip time baby,” Wes chuckled. He leaned in closer to me as he put the tip of the pen in his mouth. He began sucking. 

I watched his lips move against the tip of the pen and I pushed myself up so I was propped on my elbows behind me. Wes’s skinny leg snaked over my hip and he pulled himself onto me.

He blew out a thick cloud above the couch. His gaze dipped down to my eyes and a wicked smile spread across his face. He double clicked the pen so it would auto heat and put it in his mouth to suck while he put his hands on either side of my face. 

A modern image of love. I wanted to photograph it. I grabbed my phone and took a photo of Wes while he posed like a gaudy queen. He bit the end of the pen. 

Wes leaned down so his forearm rested across my chest. He pulled the pen out of his mouth, putting his hand next to my left shoulder. It ached for his attention - the attention he gave it in the dining room. 

Stop it Andrew, I thought to myself. This is how we ended up in a fight last time. We can’t keep doing this to ourselves. For god sakes, we’re twenty now. I couldn’t find my voice.

Wes’s eyes met mine. His reflected a lion’s pride, meanwhile I laid here like a meek elk.

His lips pressed to a small ‘o’ and I leaned forward so he could reach my lips. Wes’s hands met the side of my face and he pushed my chest deeper into the couch as he caught my lips in his.

He huffed. Blowing all of the smoke he had amassed from the pen through my mouth. I inhaled and wriggled at the heft of Wes’s body on my lungs. I knew I was going to cough but I continued to share Wes’s air. 

Smoke poured from our nostrils. 

Wes’s mouth was still connected with mine when my lungs finally succumbed and needed to relieve themselves by coughing. I tried to muddle it because Wes was… relentless. 

I needed air. I pushed him to the side and coughed smoke and saliva from my mouth. I gasped, tongue hanging from my mouth. My cheeks felt like they were under direct flames. I pushed my palm across my forehead and into my hair. 

Wes’s arm came out of nowhere, but the next thing I knew his hand was clutching my wrist. 

“Stop it,” he demanded. His cheeks were equally flushed but his eyes showed no sign of weakness at his statement. 

“Give me this,” I huffed, grabbing the pen from his hand. I closed my eyes as I took a long, hard drag. I pulled the pen from my mouth. 

My lips were bombarded with Wes’s and for a moment we both lost our grip. I dropped the pen onto the comforter and pulled Wes into me, my hands gripping his cheeks. He shoved his hands into my hair. He stroked the soft curls. Twisting a strand together, he pulled and bit down on my lip at the same time. 

Wes liked to play. But we’ve never done anything other than make-out and pull each other’s hair and maybe a little overly cuddly sometimes. 

Tonight, I could feel Wes wanting to push. I tried to pull away to talk but Wes’s attention just went to my neck and underneath my shirt. I gasped. My chest lunged forward at his touch and a satisfied expression settled on Wes’s face at my involuntary reciprocation. 

“W-Wes.” I stuttered while trying to sound demanding so I somehow sounded even more lame. “Someone could - “

“No one is coming.” His voice echoed in my ear as his fingertips closed on one of my tender nipples. He pushed his forehead into the cradle of my neck as he twisted and I gripped him closer in painful shock. He released and I fell onto my back. I pressed my hand against my face to cool it. 

Wes’s presence was gone and I opened my eyes to him standing next to the couch. His attention was on the big screen and finding the horror movie stream. After a few clicks, the page was set up and the countdown clock displayed eight minutes until showtime. 

“Pre-movie snack party?” Wes turned to me with a menacing glare.

“If I’m not in a skittle coma by two in the morning then this mission is a failure Wesley. That is a positive on snacks. We have to move now to beat the clock. Move out!”

“Go! Go! Go!” He yelled as we ran through the halls to the pantry. 

We ran down the halls nearly scaring Wes’s mom into another dimension. She muttered some PG-13 curse at us and yelled for us to quiet down. 

Mario was dozing in the corner when we stumbled through the swinging doors half tackling each other. He chuckled to himself before shooing us to our usual stools. We tend to make a trail of messes wherever we go so Mario doesn’t let us roam anymore. 

“What’s the agenda tonight boys?” He propped his chin in his hands, leaning over the counter. 

“Horror movies Mario,” Wes responded. “Blood, guts, jump scares, and lots of poor weapon choices.”

“You know my weak stomach Mario,” I laughed. “Anything that won’t kill me.”

Mario loaded us with fresh potato crisps and ice cream sundays and before we knew it we were settled on our sofa watching the ten second countdown into our first movie. 

It was called “Undead Prophet’s Wife” and I think both of us got way too invested way too quickly. 

“You don’t think she’s gonna have sex with her zombified husband, right?” He whispered with legitimate concern. “They wouldn’t kick off the movie marathon with necrophilia?”

“I wouldn’t put it above the SCI-FI channel my friend.” I laughed and rolled over to put our bowls on the table next to the sofa. As I turned to roll back over, I felt Wes’s hand creep onto my chest. It pressed down. Hard. 

My back landed on the couch and the air in my lungs was forced out in a shocked gasp. I think my face must’ve scared him because his expression twitched, leaving behind a sadness behind his smile. 

“They wouldn’t start with an undead, sloppy, slimy, decaying, molding, smelly, sex scene, Drew.”

“I - I guess we’ll just have to find out.”

“Yeah, I guess.”

No sex scene ever happened, but they did share an acceptable tender moment in the graveyard before she buried her undead husband for a second time. Wes started dozing off five minutes into the second movie and before anyone had even died yet, he was snoring like a goose. 

I reached for the remote to turn down the volume but my phone started ringing, making me flinch. 

I looked over at Wes who laid unphased by my phone. I pushed myself up to a seated position. I knew who the message was from. For god sakes, I was in the same house as him.


	2. Tip of the Iceberg

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> if you’ve kept reading, i’m honored <3 again, any edits, suggestions, critiques, whatevs... send em’ my way loves!

I shut the door to the theater with a touch so delicate not even the spirits would’ve heard it. Hopefully the weed would kick in soon. I have a weak stomach after all. 

I dreaded the conversion Wes would purposefully ignore tomorrow. He will wake up by himself, again, and I won’t be able to hide my lies. And he won’t be able to hide his sadness. 

My boots produced soft thuds on the carpeted staircase as I walked down the grand entrance. The King stood at the door. 

He turned. My stomach lurched. 

“Good evening Andrew,” his voice cut through my chest, even though it was muffled by the mask on his face. A masked covered in teeth, with a wicked grin. 

I reached into my coat’s inside pocket to retrieve my own mask. Red and white criss-cross stitching sew the mouth of the mask shut. I brought it to my face, using the belt to tighten it around my head. 

I nodded down to the King. He didn’t deserve the sound of my voice. Whenever I do my work, I do it in silence. 

The front door opened and I clipped my cloak shut, throwing my hood up. I followed the King down the stone pathway and to the guest house. He unlocked the door and I walked inside. His hand snaked onto my shoulder and he tightened his grip as we entered the house. 

He pushed me forward and I stumbled. Talk about a handsy family. 

“I trust my son didn’t dig himself further into a hole with you.” He joked, but it sent a chill up my spine. It wasn’t a joke. The whole reason I do this is for him, so it isn’t a joke to me. 

Wes. 

My eyes betrayed me. The King got his answer from their fear. He walked over to the bookshelves, placing a hand on my shoulder before giving it a gentle squeeze, and pulled forward the copy of Don Quixote. The fireplace sank backward into the wall and opened to reveal a passageway. 

I drew my short sword from the leather sheath at my side. I brushed past the King and walked close to the wall down the corridor. Dull lamps lit the way and I caught a glimpse of my reflection in a glass lantern at the end of the hall. 

He would hate me like this. Thank god he doesn’t have to know. 

“We’re late. Stop dawdling son.” 

The grip on my short sword tightened at the sound of the word son. I flanked the hall and opened the doors quickly for the King, shutting them, before rushing past to open the next. 

King’s Hidden Guard. That was the title I received when I was fifteen. It was the day everything changed, and I mean everything. 

The final door appeared in front of us and two guards stood at either side. I walked forward up to them. 

“Lion and… mutt.”

The leftmost soldier walked up the steps, retrieving the key from their side and unlocked the entrance, opening up for us to pass. 

The King brushed past me. “Come now, mutt.”

I passed the soldier a note of tips I had received in the last twenty-four hours. Security needed to be on guard.

I walked into the familiar parlor and found my usual seat on the counter, leaning against the back wall. I watched the men in the room greet each other before removing their masks and finding their seats. 

“Andrew.” My father’s voice cut from the group and I watched him walk towards me. I crossed my legs, placing the short sword on my calf in front of him. The glow of the moon reflected off the sword across his chest. 

His step faltered. A content feeling boiled in my chest at his fear. 

He scoffed, running his hand over his mouth. “Nice to see you, son.”

I gripped my sword and pushed myself to stand in front of him. I lifted the sword and paused, holding it between us, before resheathing it at my side without a sound. 

I averted him by moving to the right and grabbing the tray of drinks prepared for the meeting. I grabbed the single malt whiskey and placed it on the counter in front of him. I walked into the meeting room and placed the tray on the table, taking a position on guard at the drawing room entrance. 

“The shipments are arriving tonight and from the intel Andrew has collected, we have no reason to believe the police have wind of the cargo,” the King spoke, drawing everyone’s attention to the reason why we all were here. 

Before I could blink, the whole room erupted into the usual unorganized conversation. Occasionally people would ask me questions, but they quickly gave up. 

After a few hours, the meeting wrapped up. By now the sun was only a few hours from rising. The King came forward to send me to the shipment docks to make sure everything went smoothly. 

I left through another exit and found myself in a backyard of sorts. I walked toward the covered motorcycle, ripping the canvas from the bike and onto the pavement. I shed my cloak and put on my helmet. I started the bike and it purred underneath me. 

I put in a single headphone and hit shuffle on my music, riding out of the courtyard and onto a dirt road on the outskirts of the palace. 

The drive would be thirty minutes East. If I hurried, I might be able to make it back to the palace. Knowing the King however, he wouldn’t just leave my problems alone. 

The last three trips the King drew my leash in closer and closer. It was getting suffocating to say the least. 

The shore appeared in front of me before I descended the steep slope into the port city below. A cargo ship trudged off in the distance and the port stood silent. 

I spotted our guy, Eduardo, and waved to him from the gate. He caught my motion and jumped for joy in front of me. He blew smooches and sent over the top gestures my way. 

I removed my helmet. 

“Grací, Eduardo!” I held my hand up and rubbed my fingers together, signaling money, and then I faked putting it in my pocket. I placed another finder in front of my mouth signaling “quiet.”

Eduardo understood. “Bless you! Bless you! Grací, grací —ndrew!” 

I waved him off before making my way back out of the city. The sun rose behind me and I biked faster than I should have to the palace. Upon arriving in the courtyard, I noticed the King stood leaning against the wall out into the garden. 

I parked and dismounted the bike. I stood for a moment before turning to remove my helmet and replace my mask. He moved closer. 

My hands reached around me and fumbled with the buckle to tighten the mask. The King’s hands pushed mine aside and they fell limp to my sides. I clenched my whole body to keep from shaking. 

I’ve grown up under the supervision of this man. Any normal person would consider him a father at this point. Too bad I have no father anymore. And, no need to accept a new one into my life at that. 

The man terrified me. He knew he terrified me. 

My mask pressed on my face as he worked the straps through the loops. 

“Word from Eduardo came,” he started. “The shipment went smoothly and he confirmed your arrival this morning. He also took his payment.” 

The King pulled the leather strip tightly, the mask constricting my face and mouth and nose. I tried to push away from his grip but it was strong. I ripped at the mask to try and pry it away. Fear boiled in my stomach as my fingers weakened. 

“Don’t forget who you’re working for Andrew. You may think you have independent will my boy, but do not forget that if the order doesn’t come out of MY MOUTH!” 

He started yelling and I broke. My weight gave underneath me and the tears flowed out of my silent, limpening body. 

“THEN IT DOESN’T HAPPEN!” He let go of the straps and I pulled the mask from my face gasping for air. I heaved and braced my hands on the concrete ground, throwing up Mario’s fantastic potato crips and stomach bile.

He lifted my chin from where he stood so that my eyes were forced to look directly into his. “I don’t want to punish Eduardo for a dog’s stupid behavior.”

I choked on the bile in my throat. Tears blurred my vision of the garden in front of me. 

The King crouched down, leaning close to my ear. 

“Are we clear, son?”

I nodded. His fist connected with my side and I found myself cowling on the ground with my forehead on the concrete floor. 

“SAY IT, SON! LOUD AND PROUD!” He charged his right hook once more. 

I held up a hand up in submission, coughing. 

“Und-understood.” I coughed. “Sir.”

“Good boy.” He patted my head before standing up. 

Wiping his hand on his cloak, he swiftly put it back into a pristine white glove he pulled from his pocket. I laid my head on the concrete in exhaustion. 

“Come now,” He ordered. “You will escort me back to the palace, and if you can manage that, maybe I’ll let you have a day’s peace with my son.”

The metaphorical leash around my throat tightened but I drew the strength to push myself to my feet. I grabbed the mask from the ground and swiftly buckled it behind me, facing away from the King. I grabbed my cloak from the hook outside and wrapped it around me, pulling the hood over my eyes. 

I unsheathed my short sword and brushed past the King into the passage leading back to the palace. 

The King didn’t say anything more as we swiftly made our way back to the palace. We walked up the steps into the quiet, sleeping palace. 

I stepped forward to walk the stairs in the theater room but the King’s grasp caught my bicep. I ripped my arm away. He couldn’t keep his grip, but I didn’t know what to do next so I stood, unmoving. I wasn’t sure how he was going to react to my swift act of defiance.

“Ah— Andrew,” he whispered. He paced around me slow. Each step echoed in the silent entryway and I fixated my attention on the stairs to try and distract myself from my own fear. He stopped in front of me. I held my breath. “You… You’re dismissed.”

IHe held a finger to his lips, as I had done just an hour before at Eduardo. “There’s no point in fooling yourself, son.” 

And, with that, he ascended the stairs in front of me, turning left towards the royal bedroom. My feet couldn’t move. I was frozen. 

My heartbeat was erratic. 

I unbuckled the mask on my face and tucked it into my pocket. I touched my face and it felt like it was on fire. 

I ascended the stairs and turned right to head towards the theater. I stopped by Wes’ room to use his bathroom. The room was dimly lit by the morning sun and I quickly shut myself into the bathroom.

Flicking on the lights, I was left face to face with myself. The fear in my eyes. And the shame. 

My eyes were red but not too puffy and upon examining my side, I would have a definite bruise but I could hide it from—

Shit Wes. 

I turned off the light and walked out of the bathroom, nearly toppling over when a sleepy, blanket covered, Wes stood in the doorway. 

“H-hey, I was just—”

“Save it, Drew.” He offered a weak smile. “You know I hate it when you lie anyways.” 

He walked into the room and I pulled him into a tight embrace. He was warm, and so small in this moment. His breathing was so calm, yet I knew he was angry with me. 

He pulled away, our faces nearly on the same level with each other. I still had two inches on him. 

He leaned forward and licked my neck, catching me off guard. I shoved him to the side where he landed on his bed. 

“Y-you taste like salt.” He whispered. 

I ran my hand through my hair. “I know.”

Silence stood like a third man between us. I shed my cloak onto the floor, and my jacket. I unlaced my boots and threw them into the pile. Wes’ attention on me never wavered. 

“You’re going to make it up to me,” he whispered. The blanket draped around him dropped, and I was left staring at a shirtless Wes on the bed. I exhaled. “You’re going to touch me.” 

“Wes I—”

“This is an order,” his voice came out stern, hard. Cold. 

I nodded in silence. I walked to the entrance of the bedroom and closed the door, turning the knob to lock it. In the back of my head, however, I knew it wasn’t enough. Would anything ever be?

I walked toward the bed and placed a hand on the post Wes was seated next to. I placed my hand on his face, cupping his cheek in my palm. He melted into my touch and it made me heartbeat even more erratic. At this point, I was afraid he could hear it. I didn’t want him to hear how scared I was. How scared I am that he will one day grow to resent me. 

My palm trailed down his neck and I quickly pushed both hands underneath his arms, lifting him further onto the bed. I crawled over him so that he was looking up at me. His hands rubbed the top of my cheeks. 

“There’s marks here.” I pulled his arms away at that comment and pinned them to his sides. I went for his neck. I kisssed and sucked and nipped, all while Wes stifled a moan that I really wanted to hear on full volume. “Mark me, Drew. Please—”

I moved down his chest, kissing and sucking his delicate skin. He was so pure, and untainted by it all. It made me feel guilty. I moved my hands so that I was clutching his sides as I dragged my tongue over one of his tender nipples. I kissed it and teased it. I gave it some light squeezes to draw out Wes’ sounds of pleasure. 

“Drew, I — I” 

He was getting fired up. This game wouldn’t last long I thought to myself. His hands reached for my hair but before he could do anything I bit down on the skin I had been sucking and preparing on his right pectoral. 

“—Uck!” Wes cupped his hands over his mouth to stifle the sound of pain and his climax. I pushed myself off the bed and into the bathroom. I pulled out a first aid kit and returned to Wes, now sitting up in the bed. 

He was looking at the bite. The dog’s bite. I retrieved a sanitary wipe and bandage from the case. I climbed back onto the bed and pushed him so he was laying down with his head in my lap.

I couldn’t read his expression. There were glimpses of fear, lust, and... sadness in his eyes. I wiped the blood from the fresh wound and placed pressure on the bandage as I applied it. 

“Wes, I’m sorr—”

“No.” He closed his eyes tight, as if in pain, and he pushed him to face me. He placed his hand on the bandage, and took one of my hands to place on his. “You followed my orders as I asked.”

“Wes—”

“You’ve signed a contract, whether you like it or not,” he spoke while tears streamed down his face. “This is your mark. I now own this mark. Do you understand Andrew?”

My heart lurched. What did that idiot expect me to say? 

“I understand…” I responded before whispering a quiet “sir.” 

He grabbed my shirt pulling me forward so that our lips connected for just a few seconds. “You will have to live a life of secrecy and shame, knowing you’re the plaything of the future King.”

“I think I may be able to handle that. Now, go take a shower.”

I stood from the bed and moved to retrieve my stuff from the floor. “I’m going to go clean myself up in the guestroom. I’ll see you at breakfast, Wes.”

I made my way down the hall to the “guest room.” I pretty much live here, so I have a bedroom suited with a full bathroom and office. 

I threw off my clothes and walked into my private bathroom to shower and clean up. 

Everything ached. I inspected where the King swung earlier and a deep purple shade of skin greeted me. I touched it and flinched in pain. Thank god Wes didn’t get handsy there earlier or else I don’t think I could’ve played this off. 

I took my time showering and decompressing. It was the only peaceI would likely have the rest of the day. After a while, I grabbed my towel from the hook and turned the water off.

I dried my face and hair, walking into my closet built into the bathroom. It was a Saturday, so I pulled on a pair of jeans and a soft cotton shirt in the shade of peach. 

Inspecting my face in the mirror, I looked at the marks on my skin that Wes had noticed. It was from my mask cutting off the circulation on my skin. They were less severe now, but still noticeable. I opened the drawer of makeup the Queen gave me after an incident a few months ago and pulled the concealer out to cover the redness of the marks. 

Leaving the bathroom, I grabbed my cell phone and made my way back to the theater room, hoping the weed would still be there.

I found it on the table next to the sofa and took a long drag. A few of them. I needed to be able to stomach breakfast. Plus, I was starving.

Once the world became slightly fuzzier and I gained the confidence to leave the theater I made my way downstairs to the royal dining room. Wes exited his room in front of me and I ran up, tackling him.

“Bro, uncle!” He yelled, laughing and falling to the floor. 

“Dude, you’ll never guess what I did.”

He laughed and I extended a hand for him to grab to pull himself up. “You smoked a ton of weed in the theater before breakfast and now you have to pretend you’re not radically stoned in front of the royal family?”

I shrugged, brushing the back of my neck. “Maybe…”

“Sure, maybe. Idiot,” he mocked. “Let’s go eat Willie Nelson because I’m starving.”

“Agreed.”

We walked downstairs and into the dining room to take our seats for breakfast. The King and Queen were not seated yet, which was lucky timing. They’re always much happier when Wes and I are early for meals.

I took my place on the left side of the table, across from Wes. The King and Queen walked into the hall moments after, taking their own seats on either long side of the table.

The queen beamed. “Oh, good morning boys! You’re up early for a Saturday. How lovely? Isn’t it lovely darling?”

I looked over at the King who sat, eyes transfixed on his son.

“Darling?”

He twitched. “Oh yes love, I’m sorry. I was just thinking about how, well, how old Wesley has gotten now. Surely, you two should be marrying off soon, hmm? Andrew? You’ve grown from such a scrawny child to a strong, confident man. Surely there’s someone you want to protect.”

His gaze flicked to me and I felt anger mix with my high. Under the table, I felt Wes’ palm on my knee. His touch made the anger subside and I caught his eyes for just a moment before responding to the King.

“Yes, I suppose,” I picked up my glass and tipped it his way. “In due time, my King.”

“Actually- ” Wes’ voice interjected across the table and my head whipped to look at him. “Drew and I were just discussing our future this morning. Andrew has asked to be my first hand guard and security chief, and I have granted his request upon your approval, father.”

“Wes, wait I-” I couldn’t tell what he was thinking. He was lying. What would the King think?

“Granted.” The King smiled reaching for his glass, and lifting it towards the ceiling. “Welcome to the family business, son.”

“Oh how marvelous!” The Queen stood from her seat to pull me into a bear hug. I reciprocated the kind embrace, all while the King’s eyes burned my face. “Everybody dig in!”


End file.
